Mice, Mousetraps and my Defective Cat

Ralph the Mouse was a field mouse that took up residence in the boys' bedroom upstairs. He use to sniff my eldest son's toes at night sometimes. Last night I found out about Ralph. Ralph the Mouse is now dead. No more motorcycle rides for Ralph. He met his demise in a wooden mouse trap baited with peanut butter. I took his body out of the trap and flung him into the woods by his tail. Touching dead mice doesn't bother me. I'm sure he'll be eaten by morning. Then I reset the trap just in case Ralph has family here.

I would not have had to been the bad guy who killed Ralph the Mouse if the Defective Cat would catch mice instead of watching them run by. That is why I got a cat, to catch the field mice that try to move in my house. But my cat is defective. She prefers to jump up on my countertop, rip open the bread, and eat the the crust. She likes bread. She is stupid.

And now, I am a mouse killer.